(A young woman comes bursting into the store, flustered. She runs around all the aisles, frantically, at least three times. I watch her and go to walk over to help her, but she beats me to it and runs straight up to me, panting, sweating, red-faced, and a look of stress in her face.)

Customer: “DO YOU HAVE LADY GAGA’S SHOES?! I NEED THEM!”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t even know where you could even buy Lady Gaga’s shoes to start with. We don’t sell them here though…”

(At the store I manage, we put sensors on expensive shoes. My sales manager comes up to inform me she has heard a customer popping one off of a shoe. I approach the customer.)

Me: “Hello, how are you doing today? Do you need any assistance?”

(I notice a sensor sitting next to him. I pick it up and hold it in my hand while assisting him. He picks up a shoe box, and starts to walk away.)

Customer: “No, I’m good.”

(He proceeds to look around the store while I follow him; I’m still holding the sensor. He puts the box he is carrying on a shelf, and starts to make his way out the door. I pick up the box to find it empty. He is walking down the sidewalk, so I run after him.)

Me: “Sir, give me back those shoes!”

Customer: “I don’t know what you’re talking about; you’re crazy!”

(He proceeds to run across the parking lot, with me in hot pursuit.)

Me: “Help! Help! Criminal! Criminal!”

(I am a small, 5’ young woman, chasing a 6’ man in his 30s. I start to lose steam, and am losing him. Out of nowhere, a security guard runs past me. The customer does not notice the guard, but starts dropping shoes out of his pants one by one. Thinking I am lagging behind, he turns back to pick up the shoes. He notices the security guard, and starts to run again. A car pulls up and tries to hit the shoplifter. He doesn’t hit him, but slows the man enough to allow the security guard to catch up. They proceed to wrestle, and the security guard takes the customer down. In the end, the customer is arrested, and I get all the shoes back!)